We walk down to breakfast, both of us feeling refreshed and re-energised. We draw curious glances as we take a table by the window.
“Anyone would think we had our c***s hanging out,” said Brenton.
We begin with scrambled eggs then order croissants and a pot of marmalade. Brenton has tea and I have coffee. Every second is filled with conversation and there’s not a single awkward pause. We talk as though we’ve known each other since childhood. We have a lot in common; most notably he’s a nudist just as I am. When I tell him about Hilldare Manor and how both my staff and I are naked whenever the weather permits, he insists I invite him and I do.
After breakfast, we take a walk to the Seine, to the Pont Royal, which isn’t more than several minutes from the hotel. The conversation still flow
